


Promises, Promises

by curlycomfort



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, But Non Season Compliant, Canon Divergence, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Post-Devil's Reveal, Sick Lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlycomfort/pseuds/curlycomfort
Summary: It had been complete paradise.But of course Dear old Dad wouldn't just grant him peace forever. That was his move in the end of the days. A fickle quirk of his, mysterious as ever but clearly getting his message across.And it began after his year long exile from Los Angeles.





	1. The Second Devil

He remembered the simplicity that was his life.

Those first glorious days, where their biggest worry was to catch the murderer of each assigned case, combined with the playful flirting, innuendos, his desire mojo doing marvels, a clingy kid, a douche ex, a ninja demon by his side, an obnoxious angel brother making rutinary threats to send him back to Hell, glorious sex after a long night of clubbing and of course, his Devil's play, as always dumping him in the 'nutjob' section of humanity.

It had been complete paradise.

But of course Dear old Dad wouldn't just grant him peace forever. That was his move in the end of the days. A fickle quirk of his, mysterious as ever but clearly getting his message across.

 And it began after his year long exhile from Los Angeles.

 

\---

"You haven't spoken to them." 

Lucifer thought he would've been able to appreciate his last sunset peacefully. Getting to focus on the array of colours that had greeted his every morning and sunset magnificently. It was bound to happen, he knew. But that day was coming, one he never imagined himself dreading.

"Playa del Carmen not treating you fairly I presume?" He mused, sipping from the darkened bottle he had been nursing for the past ten minutes or so. The drink had long lost its refreshing element, but it was still savoury nonetheless.

Said bottle that got snatched a second later to be drunk by Mazikeen, the sandy spot besides him becoming occupied.

Her consisent behaviour hadn't faltered after all.

"You know I don't care about where we go. Whether it is Colombia or some remote town in Germany. They just don't get erased from existence by getting away Lucifer." She reprimanded, as ever the voice of reason in his daily life. It was no wonder that they both got along so well. Even though he could manage himself alone all right, it was never unwelcome to have a second opinion in some aspects.

He sighed, for he knew the demon was right.

"There was nothing to say." He huffed, eyes unmoving from the picturesque image right in front of him. Even that didn't drag his gaze away upon having his phone dropped on his lap unceremoniously. It had seen better days certainly, not those where it lay inactive inside a random drawer in their hut.

The demon retrieved it once again upon realizing he wasn't moving any time soon.

The seconds that followed were spent in silent aside from the gentle tapping of fingers on the screen, several scrolls and a brightening of the screen that soon covered up the purples and oranges.

The quicker he complied to her requests, the sooner he would be left to be.

It was a tediously long compilation of messages, ranging from Ella and Dan to those who grew frantic every day from Amenadiel, Linda, and Chloe. But all of them eventually quietened, and the only one that stayed with him was a lonely message, sent six months in after his disappearance.

**4:56 AM**

**You aren't coming back, are you?**

He didn't have to read the header of the chat to recognize who it was from. Right away he recognized the resignation within the dark text, a note of finality, a loss of what to do. He wasn't sure what it specifically implied, which in itself was an oddity as technicalities of the sort where his greater specialty. But he was playing a game of uncertainty now, for so much could have happened in a whole year. Changes, definite, that wouldn't match the image he had of all of them from so long ago. They very well could be a whole new person.

And it left him with an awful feeling.

"You won't know until you step foot back into the real world." And as many times, she had managed to read his mind, probably from the blank expression he sported in that fraction of a minute. Normally he would loath the notion, but there were times where he appreciated the unspeakable communication.

"Sometimes being deceived sounds better than anything else." He lamented.

She didn't have a reply to that.

 

\---

All of their belongings were shipped back to los Angeles, destined to arrive at the unworking facility of Lux in a day.

The only thing that had managed to cheer him up was getting to use his beautiful, perfect, roaring Corvette once again. Bringing its shining lust from its glorious era, the uncovering of it brought him memories, of the wind ruffling up his hair while driving through a typical Los Angeles night, nicely warm to wear his pristine suits, blasting his favourite music and bribing his way out of tickets. It was perhaps one of the few materialistic objects that he held a connection with. 

It was just a blasted car but it had seen him through his worst and his best, the nightly drives and chases behind criminals.

" _Hello_ old friend." He caressed the hood affectionately, absentmindedly running the oiled cloth over its surface, the shine being simply marvelous to his dull eyes. "Up and about am I right? You and I will run back together like the Devilish team we were back then." He of course received no reply from the automobile, but it didn't matter. Anything that helped strengthen his resolve was not passed up. It comforted him in some way, to have at least a fragment of those  _good old_ times to keep close to him.

"Let's test your roar shall we?" Once in a very long time did that devilish smirk morph in his face, rounding up the car and sliding into the driver's seat.

It felt like home already.

Throwing the keys in the air and catching them mid-fall, he inserted it in its rightful spot and turned. The effect was immediate. Lucifer could feel the roar of the Corvette rumbling through his body welcomingly, shaking a chuckle from within his lungs as he patted the steering wheel several times.

"Just like the screams of the seven circles of Hell my dear!" Triumphant, he set to drive the car out of the garage, sliding onto asphalt. A swift turn lead him to his destiny, parking neatly at the front of their beach house.

Mazikeen watched the reunion of Devil and automobile in silence, arms crossed while standing in the middle the luggage accumulated to go. Mostly Lucifer's repertoire of Hawaiian styled shirts, swim shorts and tailored shorts that had at one point replaced the pristine suits the man wore daily. The last ten percent -packed in two bags- consisted of Maze's clothes, which on their own didn't have much volume and therefore could fit the necessary outfits.

"What do you say we head for our last  _cerveza_ , Maze, eh? Or are you up for some neat scotch?" Perching his elbow on the rim of the door, he reclined back, watching the demon easily sling the luggage on the backseats. The gentle  _tap tap_ of his shoes matched up to the swift beat of the song blasting in his playlist.

 _You look like an angel_  
_Walk like an angel_  
_Talk like an angel_  
_But I got wise_  
_You're the devil in disguise_  
_Oh yes you are_  
_The devil in disguise_

"Hear that Maze?" He rested his head back, sunglasses shadowing his eyes from the bright sun. "Our dear friend Elvis, never one to disappoint on his songs." The demon dropped on the passenger seat, the keys to their rental circling her finger with disinterest.

"Always so proud of Elvis." She humoured, her programmed response to whenever her boss wished to bring back up again the topic of singers and all the favours Lucifer made for them.

The fallen angel dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand.

"You don't deceive me, you are as equally proud of him." He teased, releasing the break and driving in the direction of the sun with a stomp on the accelerator.

Mazikeen simply shrugged, diverting her gaze towards the buildings passing by.

He didn't miss the smile on her face.

 

\---

The bustling city that never seemed to sleep, whether it was day or night, there was always something happening within the numerous streets of Los Angeles.

Performing artists, impersonators, preachers, singers, it was a different world, different atmosphere that almost no other city could match. To expect the unexpected, for every corner could bring a new adventure, a new crime or even the stupidest and most improbable thing that could happen to someone.

It was the perfect city for the Devil.

As soon as they crossed the border, something inside Lucifer seemed to click back in place. An energy he had lost throughout the year, spent watching the sun setting, drinking while sitting on the sand, uttering no word but listening intently to the whispers of the wind. Even his own sexual habits broke throughout his exile. The night stands had been consistent at first, but there was something inside him, deeply settled in his chest, that slowly dimmed that sexual desire he was known to have. He hadn't lost his touch, not quite; neither was it because of his age, he was pretty sure in celestial terms, he was still on the young side, as incredulous as that sounded. It just seemed that he was...

Tired.

A heavy weight on his back that suddenly seemed to rid him of every small bit of energy he had. Maze had noticed so too, and while she usually slinked away to entertain herself on different matters, there were times were she too sat besides him, contemplating the sky, whether it was casted by clouds or stars.

The starry nights were the hardest.

But in the end, he realized the exile was necessary, therapeutic even. For once, he allowed himself to relax at a hundred percent, with an unkempt beard, far past from the stubble he had been so careful of formerly. The suits even ignited something that he didn't quite like, opting to hide them in the deepest corner of his wardrobe and saunter around with comfortable shorts and loose Hawaiian shirts.

The Devil had his own limits, millennia of torture, punishment, waking up to admire the harsh red skin underlying his human aspect, having to endure through the wrongdoing that never seemed to stop in the world. He was explicitly defying the Lucifer brand just for the sake of his own mental state. The leave had been necessary. The reveal, the reaction he had waited for from the Detective but praying so hard for it not to be. It stirred a fire he wasn't proud of. A fire he wished could be seen with glinting eyes of awe instead of fear. But he had understood her, and hadn't been offended at all.

The Devil in the end did keep up with humanity's stories. A monster, merciless, capable of driving anyone crazy with a flash of his true self. The ruin of everything that could be considered good in the world, withering into ash with a simple touch. It implied an endless cycle, forever trapped in a position he was made to occupy. A nonexistent free will in the end, despite having the notion that he could lead his life anywhere. That fire, born from his rebellion, from the looks diverted away from his brothers and sisters, fearful of lifting a finger against their creator's premonition. Dared he to seek for his own liberation, to earn his own satisfaction from his actions, being aware that he was the one responsible for the outcome. 

He was the only one to understand that. And Heaven's doors slammed up in his face, the fall, agonizing pain, the loss of his naive nature, the death of his former self. Samael, a name to be forgotten, and for a fear inciting name to take place. The Fall that lead to his rebirth as Lucifer, the guardian of Hell, of the lost souls that had no place in the highest skies; feelings that used to be dimmed into a small spark now trascending his own body, burning, morphing.

Evil.

But was he really? Did he really wish to be the bearer of all the evil that his Dad's creations came up with? Was he not created to bring light?

Was he made to rebel for the sole purpose of occupying the profession no other celestial would ever want to know about?

Had his father never cared for him in the end?

Ah.

Wonderful, contorting existential crisis, little buggers that decided to make their comeback with the change in lifestyle.

Bitter nasty shivers, provoking the clenching of his jaw, a tightening on the steering wheel.

They had been parked on the LAPD's parking lot for ten minutes now.

No wonder he wanted to turn the way they came from.

"Tell me. When did we establish that arriving to this little precinct was the best idea Maze?" Hissing, he killed the engine and grasped onto his keys. He could already feel that obnoxious pressure behind his eyelids, tightening, pulsing every passing second he wished he could just pop out of existence.

"Oh _please_ , I wasn't born yesterday. You would've hidden in Lux for as long as you decided to. And we both know you wouldn't exactly be entertaining yourself with a Brittany or Crystal." She threaded a finger through a thuft of hair, looking absolutely at ease despite the situation at hand. The big, unmoving situation that wasn't going away, even if he decided to hide in his club.

Lucifer shot a depreciative glare towards the towering building, bringing every bit of will he had left to push him on. They had already gotten so far, there wasn't anything to loose anyways. His therapist had most likely going nuts and his favourite person in the world had practically ran away in fear of his little demonstration. The rest of the individuals held a close connection with her to be instantaneously removed from the picture.

Besides, he was Lucifer fricking Morningstar. He could saunter in a police precinct after being gone for a whole year without a care of the world.

He was fire, he was grace. He was... encouraging himself to just get a bloody move on and just  _do something._

"Let's get this over with." His descent wasn't one of his proudest moments to say the least. A time where his legs decided to morph into jelly and simply feel as though he was a fledgling all over again, with an amused Amenadiel teasing his shenanigans.

Devil and demon crossed the expanse of the parked cars, silently watching the entrance zooming in with every heavy step he took.

His first step inside after so long hit him like a train.

_Oh Dad, what am I doing?_


	2. A Demon and The Devil Walk Into a Police Precinct

_The Bible says:_

_Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him._

_How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low!_

And there is no undoing of what was told.

And there is no undoing for what is now old.

The consequences he had to stand up to, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Whether it was the acceptance of his flock or the breaking of a once strong unity. It was a story of Deja-vu, somehow, for some reason hurting more than it once had. Perhaps it was the loss of his initial innocence and the knowledge of what his actions truly brought. A taut string bound to break, and damage on both ends, most likely without a starting point to fix.

And those consequences were due now.

The first thing he noticed were the looks directed towards them. Such a strange pair they seemed to make up; a bearded man with a blue flower printed shirt and a smaller woman that looked as though she was a model, the dress almost obscene to the eyes of the law-protectors. The second thing he noticed were the hushed whispers trailing behind them, although, no soul attempted any sort of contact with them, as though they were a figment bound to disappear eventually.

The receptionist jumped slightly when Lucifer came into view, folding his arms neatly over the counter.

" _Hello_ Samantha, I see Los Angeles has treated you well all this year." He allowed his gaze to trail down her figure momentarily, before returning to her mildly confused expression, shooting her one of his trademark smiles, with canines and an unfaltering confidence. The reaction was delayed, but he wasn't disappointed when her features morphed into something akin to a coquettish smile.

He didn't have to worry about being rusty on the flirting area anymore.

When she simply kept her gaze unmoving from him, he went ahead and continued.

"I'm looking for Detective Decker, Espinoza and Ella Lopez. I'm Lucifer Morningstar as you should already know. Could you help me?" He leaned forward a bit, brushing away a stray lock that had escaped her bun. His gaze solidified into something more, something that asked for a deeper search, a confession of a deep need or desire.

"Tell me Samantha." He soothed. "What is it that you desire, my dear?"

He could tell when his mojo started doing its work, a tension overtaking the questioned person and forcing them to speak of something they wouldn't talk about, even if they didn't realize what they were doing. The first time he did it, he wondered if he had broken a human, but trial and error had taught him and built up who he was today. He didn't have to put much thought to it now a days, it was as simple as it is to move an arm or have a blink.

"I-" Lucifer waited patiently while the woman struggled, her little human mind trying to comprehend what she was doing. That confusion eventually eased into something calmer, even relaxed. "I want to get promoted, get out on the field, be recognized more than a receptionist." She exhaled dreamily, staring far off into her remote dream. Lucifer tapped her nose playfully, amused by the drunken haze she seemed subdued under.

"You little _devil_. Working hard every day, craving to get out there and be recognized for all your  _arduous_ work. Tell you what." He lowered his voice, giving a faux look around the precinct as if he were about to tell her a secret. "You help me on my mission and I'll pull up some strings, get you in the road for a shining new promotion." He knew he had her convinced as soon as he started to talk by the way she incorporated and gained a hint of confidence that wasn't there before. 

Samantha did nothing for a moment of ponderation, but eventually nodded. "They moved floors after a renovation. You can find them on the fourth story, to your right after stepping out of the elevator." She slid a visitor's card over the counter. Lucifer pocketed it silently. "You'll soon get what you wish. Devil never breaks his promise." He retreated away after that, approaching Maze and motioning for her to follow.

A sigh of relief cut through his lips, suddenly feeling as though he had just undergone the most strenous effort in the past hours. It was a new sensation, one that addled him to no point. Using his persuasion wasn't as fun as he remembered, and his own flirting and charms had fallen somewhat flat in the end. It allowed for doubt to grow, for it wasn't unlike the Devil to reject his own abilities. A terrifying thought, a deep anxiety pulsing through his veins.

He was scared.

Scared that his identity was faltering again. It was something that had started all those months back, the reveal, the point of no return, the complications of something that shouldn't have gone so wrong. It was like falling all over again, feeling himself disconnected to his own being, questioning if who he was before made any sense. The possibility of changing yet again was something he thought he had gone over already. Foolishly, he had thought that giving himself a break from the pain, the strange looks directed at him, linking him to the ancient stories of his name that prevailed would help solidify his own confifence. But as it was, his plans kicked him back harshly, as though his own actions were designed by someone else already...

His free will.

A battle he had fought for and in the end lost, punished for dreaming of something that humanity didn't appreciate.

Those  _buggering_   emotions that were holding every muscle of his body tense, and a search for a breath he obviously did not need but his body had decided to change its mind and demand for it like a starving man.

A tight hold was placed over his wrist, bringing his stagnant form into motion, towards the opening doors of an elevator. He vaguely realized that Maze pressed the button aiming towards the final story, far away from their objective. The tiny box, why did humans make it so small?, moved with a groan shortly after locking them in, ascending the stories with a slow pace.

"Look at me." Lucifer's gaze remained stubbornly on the doors. Just a moment of weakness, the Devil could not be weak, there was no reason for him to be. But that incited her to grab his face.

"Look at me Lucifer." She guided his head, so he could look at her, see through the hard expression on her face, sorting through her own walls and allowed to see that gentle concern, the one that had consoled him after his wings were cut.

 Such a minor thing to get so shaken up about. But perhaps this, his reaction, had been repercussion of a months old build up that was bound blow up.

"What's wrong with me Maze?" He asked sadly, lost, unable to comprehend what was haunting him. 

"Nothing's wrong with you." She scolded, tightening her grip on his face, to keep him concentrating on the now, to keep him from floating away. "You are being  _human_ , you have emotions, you get hurt, you can feel pain. Being the Devil doesn't prevent you from having all of that. No matter how mean or tough you think you have to be. It's not that _simple._ " The elevator's doors opened, and before an awaiting man could take a second step in, she pushed him out and pressed the correct button this time, waiting for the doors to close before continuing.

"We don't have to do this today, but if you just walk away you won't know what  _they_ will say.  _This-_ " She poked a finger on his forehead. "Will keep eating you alive if you don't walk out of this  _cramped_ elevator and talk to them."

The worst part was that she was right. He wouldn't know if it was going to end in disaster or a nice lovely reuinion if he didn't do the actual  _thing_.

So he nodded.

And just like that, that let down of their carefully crafted walls were once again lifted, concern replaced with a blankness for her and a decent confidence replacing his own doubts. There was still so much to say, so much to confide with each other, but it wasn't the right place.

Later.

 

\---

Stepping out, The Devil did a quick check of his appearance, tugging at the collar of his shirt just as he would've done with the lapels of his suit jacket.

Old habits were hard to kill.

To his side, Maze caught up to his spot, arms hanging loosely by her sides while she examined the new environment with a careful stare.

With an assertive nod, the demon motioned to nowhere in particular and said sternly, "Text me if anything happens." , before disappearing into a corridor to the right to do Dad knows what.

Lucifer on the other hand decided to explore around a bit, try to get a hint of where he would be able to locate his old friends.

The building in itself was essentially the same, with the exception of a few renovations here and there, keeping the desks, chairs and workers he had once been familiar with.

So he let himself be guided by his curiosity, as less conspicuous as he could be with a colorful shirt framing his towering figure. The floor was annoyingly clean, or perhaps it was his own imagination playing cards at him by accentuating the squeak of his shoes with every step he took. No one really parted focus away from their paperwork asides from some curious puppies here and there, quickly dismissed with a wave of his visitor's card and a disinterest in meeting their face if they weren't who he was looking for.

The drag of his trek around the crowdy precinct was just  _so lovely_.

Every second ticking by was enough to add to his preoccupation, his doubts on whether he would be able to find them, or on the worst case scenario, be spotted by them before he could notice.

Fortunately for him, he had the talent to zone in to  _good music._

_A brush of his fingers against the wall, trailing towards the lab. He heard it since he rounded the corner, urging him to walk faster, eager to be delighted by such a masterpiece._

_When he stepped in, two pairs of eyes focused on him, knowing from the glint in his eyes that he was up to no good._

_"Is that Van Halen I hear with my own ears?" He grinned, his smirk only widening upon catching sight of packs upon packs of cocaine, caressing the side of a tightly sealed package with his index finger, about to gather it in his arms before a hand slapped away his wrong intentions._

_Well, nothing wrong on wanting to have a good time right?_

_"Oh Detective. You must allow me to have this... this beautiful and amazing pack of-"  
_

_"Cocaine. I know. But I counted each single pack in this room, so God help you if I find one of them gone by the end of the day." She, as stern as ever, with that stare that he recognized belong to the repertoire she used on her daughter when she misbehaved or was about to break the rules, pushed him away from the table with a gentle push on his chest, hand faltering over his soft shirt for a moment before retreating away._

_Ella glanced between the pair briefly, bemused by the events._

_"Dad wouldn't be much of help in this." He rolled his eyes heavily, but with his good humor still intact, he approached Ella, bumped his hip with hers to match the beat of the song and pointed at her._

_"Volume up my dear. Van Halen always promises a good dance."_

_Chloe shook her head in disbelief, unable to keep a smile from growing._

Lucifer chased the ghosts away with a blink, the good old memories, the song morphing into a calmer piece with an unsettling morph of his surroundings.

He stood quite the gap off from the doorway, gaze locked intently on the figure inclined over a microscope, hair pulled into a ponytail and swaying to match the music. Like an admirer of a piece of art, Lucifer felt compelled to just stand back and hold on to the image, unbroken by the series of events that would possibly be unfolding in the next minutes or so. The past had him chained by the wrists, with a hand on his shoulder while they too admired the scene in front of them, a blank expression with maliciousness behind wise eyes.

Ella Lopez.

With a strong belief and perhaps the only human so far stunning him into silence within a first impression. Easy going, someone that seemed to find his behaviour amusing rather than irritating. It had been refreshing, to have a friend that he could have fun with and joke around from time to time.

She was the first one to see him after a long year gone. And perhaps he longed to see his Detective more than anything, but he needed some semblance of reassurance when he came to that point.

He needed to be sure how much things had changed.

This time he didn't handle what happened, for she raised her head, hand hovering over her notebook in mid action of writing her notes down.

And his breath was taken away when she caught notice of his presence, at first very confused, seeming to try and connect the dots that would make that link between past Lucifer and the present one. Perhaps it was shock, or she was merely too taken aback to sufficiently process that what she was seeing was in fact real, that it was not a dream, nor a lie. He shakily exhaled when she stumbled away from the table, clutching onto the doorframe, realization dawning into her features.

 _Easy Lopez._ He wanted to say.  _It's not easy, I know my dear._

And his heart beat a tad bit quickly, for the spark he felt clash with his being seemed to bring back those old expressions, the teasing, joking, even the way of speaking seemed to resurface from a deep sea of nothingness. It was the revisiting of old chapters in a book, a brutal shake to his consciousness to wake him from the deep slumber he seemed to have locked himself away into.

"My God,  _Lucifer?"_

That chain reaction started now.

"No hello for Uncle Luci?" He gave a poor excuse of his signature smile, stumbling back with a squeezed  _Oomph_ in the blink of an eye with a five foot two woman boa constricting him with an enthusiastic embrance.

"Of course you get a hello. _Hello_ Lucifer Morningstar. I can't believe this is happening. Maybe I have gone really crazy now, am I crazy?" The flood of questions that thundered out of her mouth muffled through the fabric of his shirt. Some might as well send Ella to a mental institute for the crazed expression on her face, but really, it was very understandable to receive a reaction like that. One of the many types Lucifer had already experienced through the centuries he mingled in between every peculiar part of humanity.

He was truly impressed with how well she was managing to cope with everything.

"Unfortunately, no." His arms had hung stiffly to the side, but now that he was through with the worst part, he could happily return the hug that seemed to be going on for an eternity. "Don't get used to hugs." He murmured as an afterthought, remembering just how keen she was to hug him at unexpected times. He appreciated the sentiment behind them, but he truly couldn't handle that type of touch.

She finally pulled away a couple of minutes, smiling at him brightly behind unshed tears.

"Oh my G- Oh that's- your dad, completely forgot." She bypassed his grimace, looking around wildly. "You've got to see the rest of them. Come on." She grabbed onto his wrist and tugged him with her, to his own horror guiding him to his second meeting on a short notice.

_Slow down, for Dad's sake slow down before I am offed with a heart attack._

"Dan will probably faint when he sees you. You know how dramatic he is." She didn't quite catch on his mortification, for the next thing he knew, he was being shoved inside an office, hands guiding him by the shoulders.

Just in time for said person to look up from his snack, spoon stuck inside his mouth.

"You would not believe- stop choking, it's just pudding- who I just stumbled into." He now remembered why he avoided revealing information of important keeping with her.

Lucifer pitied the man in that moment, as he arduously slammed a fist on his chest to swallow his treat correctly.

Once the worst seemed to have gone by, pudding now forgotten, he stared at Lucifer with a strange look.

"Hello Daniel." He prompted, raising his brows while giving his best toothy smile.

That just seemed to worsen it, for the man seemed to remember on the important facts. Yes, Lucifer was The Devil, and again yes, he was really back, alive and standing in the middle of his office.

"You've got to be kidding me." He blurted.

"Oh I assure you Detective." He leaned forward a bit, smile intact. "That this is all real."

He was trying to convince himself more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hugely grateful for the amount of support the first chapter has received.
> 
> As of now, updates have been scheduled for Wednesday, if not several days earlier or later, depends on how often I am able to sit down and write.
> 
> Thank you for reading my work and I certainly hope you are enjoying it so far. :)
> 
> I would be delighted to hear out what you think.


	3. Unsteady

_"It's all real..." Shame replaced the horror he had felt upon turning and finding his hopes standing frozen, a mind tainted by the revelations of something she had gone through her days not believing in. For that same reason his soul withered just a bit more. And his gaze lowered, for she didn’t deserve to see that part of him, the one capable of pushing anyone into an oblivion of Hell. She had seen him somehow sending criminals to the mental institute. He had learned his mistake upon revealing himself to Linda, and he had no doubt that the same would be happening in that instant._

_This was not what he wanted._

_The fear she was broadcasting surrounded his form with a gentle whisper, confirming his doubts, pushing him deeper in the burning pit others were holding him into already. He could almost feel the fire lick at his skin, eat the rest of him that wasn't already scorched or condemned._

_'She doesn’t want you.'_

_His shoulders slumped forward, defeated. A wounded animal left to its own devices. Of course she would be scared, he was a monster. He didn’t belong there anymore, never should have thought that he could mingle between mortals and hope to be considered one of their own._

_He almost surprised himself when his wings flourished on a wide silent expose on his back, breathing starting to pick up... It was further proof of his divinity, and the teller of what used to be and what now was. The brand linking him to Heaven despite his current job. Once upon a time he used to be one of them, a mindless individual that only had eyes to please his creator and serve the purpose he was gifted with. But perhaps what he thought to be his purpose was but a lie, existing to channel him to his true position._

_Never a happy ending for the Devil there is._

_And for that, he spared no look again, for his heart was shattered enough, and the pain was his only motivation._

_An almost inhuman cry puffed his lungs, and the last he heard from her was her startled scream when he crashed through the window, high up in the sky, so far that anyone looking up could see the wide spread of his carriers, shining brightly, wondrously, placing the sun’s stare into second place. Flying offered him a liberation from the noise below, a path to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The horizon was his destiny, and he had the free will to choose how he travelled._

_Then he was plummeting to the ground, curtains of feathers wrapping around him in a cocoon of protection, from the fire, the impact, the thousands of tortured souls desperately grasping onto any expanse of skin, wings, hair they could catch on. His screams meant nothing for Hell, louder than any scream existent, the sonata of the hellborn monsters craving to be free, be heard and liberated from an eternal prison._

_He could only hold onto himself, squeeze his eyes shut and wish that the impact would come, for a closure was much better than falling without an end, forever trapped in that prison that ended with his naivity and brought to surface the anger, despair, the red scars permanently erasing his young hope._

_He might've been millennia old, but to his brothers and sisters he was just but a rebelious teenager that wanted something he wasn't allowed to._

When he woke up, he found himself tangled in his covers, wings spread widely to the sides of the room, the primaries puffed up in alert, ready to attack. He was shaken enough to have every limb of his body trembling against his will, but not as much as other nights, where Maze pulled back the veil of terror, soothing, patient enough to will the feral look on his eyes die into exhaustion. The latter were the ones he most dreaded, the harder hits he took. The anger being enough for him to destroy every piece of furniture on the room, the bed scratched useless and the walls abused by the daggers of his wings.

This time, the only victim had been himself.

Fortunately.

The refreshing winds from a summer night, the residue smell of sand and the ocean, rare times when the heat gave way to something pleasantly cooling, easing the burning fever from his body, turning sweat cold and clothes uncomfortably damp.

He let the oppression on his chest leave him. His lungs still burned, and his skin ached, a sensory memory brought on by the vivid nightmare.

The house slept peacefully, and this time, Mazikeen hadn't been alerted by his self-inflicting attacks. They always left him empty, staring at his hand, as if not being able to believe that he was right there, that the callouses on the palms staring up at him would disappear if he dared look away.

When the wind whispered against his skin again, his resolve crumbled, and the house sadly watched the Devil press the heel of his hands on his eyes, that feverish coat making its return in his self-depreciation. Being alone, in his own room, offered security, a small shelter for him to unravel when he needed it the most. Of course he was very thankful when his friend was there to endure through his pain together, but sometimes that hatred was big enough to call him a coward for allowing himself to be weak in front of others.

This time the hatred merely sat back, and watched with somber eyes the torture Lucifer never seemed to get rid of.

Like a child, lost, seeking for that warmth that would make them feel safe, he peeked from behind closely pressed hands, up to the sky, where the stars greeted him lively, blinking in their glorious splendor.

 He remembered flying with them, creating them with his own hands, from the light hidden inside him. The stars didn't judge him, they would never dim out when looking at him.

The sad tears turned melancholic, and the worn out Devil dozed off with the memories of light behind his eyelids.

The starry nights were the hardest, but not because he couldn't look at the stars, but because he wished he could be with them once again.

A morning star that plummeted into Hell.

 

\---

"You've got some explaining to do."

Somewhere behind him, the trilling sound of a phone going off was enough to center him on where he was. He was Lucifer Morningstar, former angel of God and handler of the millions of souls and demons in Hell. 

The same one being quite dramatically questioned by a Detective that is fond of having chocolate pudding for a snack.

Someone picked up the call, and his gaze shifted away from looking to the side, focusing on Dan for the first time since he had been pushed into the chair in front of the desk. Whatever sound coming from outside was blocked when the door clicked shut behind him, the lock falling into place the seconds that followed. The blinds shadowed the office upon sealing shut, and Ella moved to stand besides him, arms crossed as she too looked at Dan.

He might as well be in a session at court with his lawyer for all he knew.

Despite that, Lucifer tried to act natural, folding his hands over his lap.

"Well, Daniel. You have to be more specific about what you wish to know because retelling the whole events that involve the last year will take more than a day for sure."

The detective snorted, pushed away the small cup of dessert and crossed his arms over his chest, unamused by the reply. "You were gone for a long year." He wavered between irritated and mildly preoccupied.

Lucifer shrugged. "Twelve months, three weeks and two days to be precise."

"And you didn't tell anyone."

"I have my reasons."

Daniel seemed at a loss of words, as if every little question accumulated over time in a jumble tried to push out of his mouth all at once. He seemed to give up, slowly shaking his head with a tired sigh before staring at him sternly.

"But why?"

Why. That seemed to be the question simultaneously reaching everyone's mind. Why this, why that, why he chose to do what he did, why he left, why, why, why. That didn't matter in the end, the past was gone, they were at a whole different point. But it seemed as though he wasn't the only one that could let go of it. A breach through time that deleted that whole year as if it had never happened. Maybe it didn't, and he was just dreaming once again, back at the beach house with Maze. Maybe he had finally lost his mind.

But he knew why everyone wanted to know so badly. He could see it in Ella's eyes, in Dan's, no doubt his other friends awaiting with the same haze. That certain comprehension that only a few obtained in their lifetime, often times writing it down in books as a way to cope with the fact that no one would ever believe them. Lore they called it, theories, mere ideas to explain phenomena. It didn't matter if the rest of the world chose to stay ignoring, a few sector of humanity just didn't see the world the same way, standing on a completely different page.

He was the one responsible to open their eyes, and make them  _believe._

He could see the confusion and need to understand what exactly they were dealing with.

Lucifer crossed his leg over the other, bouncing it to keep the rest of his body still. Pure energy that needed some way to channel.

"You know why, Detective Espinoza."

Ella shared a look with Dan, and that he knew they did without even needing to look. The tension was palpable, thick, standing like a bloody elephant in the office.

"Dan." The man placated, gaze softening into something else, the hard edges melting away into a reachable point. "It's Dan." The detective seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the formal use of his name, expecting the usual  _Detective Douche,_ _Dan,_ or  _Danny._ Lucifer would always be unpredictable, but he did have certain quirks that everyone knew to identify. But this... it just didn't sit right to him, it was as though the flirty, smirking man he had pretended to be irritated with was just...

_Absent._

"A year is enough to process it all." Ella intervened, speaking for Dan's own thoughts. She leaned over Lucifer, placing a hand gently over his shoulder.

It was the answer he didn't know he seeked for. Maybe they couldn't explicitly say it, for fear of breaking the frail string they were all balancing on. It was as though everyone was walking into it blindly, unsure of just how fragile each and every one of them was now. He had stepped in the precinct once again for the truth of their reality, but in all the hour he has spent there, no one has ever made a hinting towards that dangerous area.

That's was made Lucifer sit a little less stiffly. Because of course, how dumb could he have been not to realize it until now.

They were afraid that he would leave again if they touched the subject.

It did make sense, even if they hadn't been in the room to see it happen. Chloe must've told them at some point, explain how his club became empty in the blink of an eye, why he never would reappear at a crime scene anymore, possibly fill in the blanks they had on how his desire mojo exactly worked, how he was able to heal so quickly, drive criminals to insanity, validate that he wasn't personifying the Devil but he really was The Devil.

These people knew he was the Devil and yet...

"Lucifer?"

The question barely made a dent in the heavy conundrum that was haunting him, but he pushed through the dense fog. Maybe he looked as though he had seen a ghost.

Or maybe he was the ghost.

He lightly shook his head.

"You humans and your twisted, fumbling emotions." He rushed, cheeks heating up, expression lines tightly furrowed. "How you are not rushing away from me will forever remain a mystery. If you do recall _Detective_ , there have been others with no such luck whatsoever."

He moved to stand up, but was forced down onto the plastic chair.

He huffed, but made no other move.

"I think we have already given you our answer." Dan cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Sure, we weren't there, but-"

"If you had been, we wouldn't be in this situation." Lucifer emphasized, angrily rubbing at a loose thread sticking out of the patterned cloth. "Being given a mere description of reality can often be deceiving, for the imagination is capable to shape those descriptions to match what standards we have of our world. You might think you know, but the ugly truth is that in fact... you don't." He gritted.

"Maybe we don't." Ella crossed her arms over her chest, expression tight. "But why would that change anything? You are still the Lucifer we know. We were already so fond of you and we didn't even know you were the Devil. Although it did sort of backfire on us that we never believed what you said about yourself..." Her expression faded into a murmur, fiery eyes intensifying once again after a few seconds.

"Honestly, what we are most petrified about right now is the fact that Lucifer Morningstar has completely ditched the pristine suits for Hawaiian shirts." 

Lucifer had to recognize it, the woman could make a very valid point, easing off the tension at the same time. The air was easier to breath, and he could let his muscles relax without feeling as though he is going to be attacked at any moment.

"Ah, ah." He chided, grasping the light fabric with his hands and gently tugging.

"Still wearing Prada my dear." He could easily smile this time, a certain smugness creeping through his expression as Ella tugged at the collar of his shirt in search of the clothes' tag. The gentle touch left him somewhat shaky, as though he couldn't quite step on the ground completely.

Nonetheless, he got his sweet victory when his statement went answered with a huff.

"I thought the saying 'The Devil wears Prada' was just a joke." Dan pointed out, twirling a pen between his fingers, not completely done with trying to figure out the man sitting in front of him. An old presence that they used to be familiar with at one point.

But to hear him chuckling again in the office brough a small smile to both of their faces.

It would never be the same, but it was a starting point to the road of healing deep wounds.


	4. The City of Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long semester at school and major writer's block later...
> 
> So sorry for the delay.
> 
> Thank you all for the support and very very nice comments. You don't know how encouraging they are. :)
> 
> Enjoy.

“Are you coming back?” The question would’ve flown right past his ear if the room hadn’t been drop dead silent. Nowadays it seemed their therapy sessions went like that, sitting in silence and staring at each other until someone had something to say, or an external force asked for his presence.

”Only time will tell.” He offered, shadows casting over him when the lights out dwindled into nothing.

This time was the latter, and somehow, he felt as though she knew that too.

 

—-

High above in the ceiling, droplet by droplet of water leaked away, descending all the way just to land over his nose.

 He suspected the precinct somehow became sentient enough to know when he was stealing from the snack machine.

What a bloody joke.

He reached for a third bag of sweets shamelessly, throwing the little bag of fruit scented gummies upwards and catching it with a plastic crunch. 

As his footsteps retreated, the hundred dollar bill sat in solitude within the rest of the snacks, aware of it not being one of their own.

 

—-

 

“Detective, you are a  _darling_.” Lucifer moaned in between scoops and scoops of chocolate, delicious, lifesaving, amazing pudding. The rush of sweetness was enticing at best, bringing dormant muscles back to life and ultimately calling for problems because, it was him they were talking about. It was a well known rule that sweets and whatnot were prohibited to be handed willingly to him.

Except today of course.

Today was 'Treat the Devil with sweets Day'.

 Except, apparently, they were in the need to stall him around for something, or someone.

He wasn't just exaggerating, alright, it wasn't hard to deduce from how deadly still Ella and Dan sat, gazes glued on him in a failed attempt at discretion.

He cleared his throat.

"So..." He eyed the empty container of pudding, licking the last of the chocolate from his fingers before throwing the cup behind him.

"Are we going to establish communication or keep stalling around as though expecting Dad to appear out of nowhere because let me tell you, that certainly won't be happening any time-"

"It's not that." Ella intervened.

"We are just trying to see what you are going to do next." Dan clarified.

"You mean talk with  _her_." Lucifer corrected.

Both shared a look.

"We are just worried." She admitted. "Do you even want to... see her?"

Lucifer raised a brow. "Are you asking that when I willingly came here on my own?" It would not make sense for him to go somewhere he didn't want to. That's kidnapping, and Lucifer just doesn't get kidnapped by anyone.

Alright, maybe he was rather nervous by their reunion, they didn't have to know that.

"Come on guys." He stood up, preventing them from doing so too with a fixed stare. "What happened to the fun days, the crime-solving gang? Those adventure, crime and sometimes wound handled days where our victory stood at the top of Mount Olympus." He raised his arm, as high as he could to demonstrate the magnitude of his statement. "Catch a murder, kick Zeus out of his glorious throne with our heroic tales-"

"Wait, is Zeus real?" Dan whispered in mortification.

"That's a discussion for later Dan-o. The point  _is."_ He balled his hands into fists, moving back an forth like a boxer. "We were unbeatable. Nothing would dim our power moves." He breathed through an open mouth, teeth complimenting the encouraging grin he sported.

But instead of the reaction he seeked, Dan adopted a weird expression, something akin to a mortified potato, if that could be possible, while his eyes scrolled to look at something behind Lucifer.

"What?" He pressed, alternating to Ella. "What's the matter? Is it the shirt? Too colorful for your eyes? Do I have chocolate _on my_ beard?" He groaned, dabbing a hand over his chin repeatedly.

"Uhm." They both exclaimed.

"It's as though you've seen the Devil or something. But that's ridiculous because of course I'm-"

"Lucifer." Completed someone. 

He should've foreseen that. But expecting something to happen never beat the event itself, tumbling through one's life at the most unexpected moment.

He knew this would happen, he knew he should feel nervous about meeting the person who had once trusted him the most and faded away once they realized the truth of who he was. But he couldn't control the gut-wrenching feeling that made his wit and nonchalance fly out the window. He wanted things to be normal, to how they once were, the beginning of their story had promised so much and yet the future hadn't been kind with Lucifer.

"Detective." 

He didn't expect it to start being kind with him now.

The wave was closing in, intending to drown him, and Lucifer was the only one standing on the beach.

"You..." He heard her approaching behind him, trying to convince his heartbeat not to quicken under the presence over his back, a hand, over his shoulder.

"A promise is a promise." He elicited to the silent room.

"You never made a promise." She pointed out.

"Maybe not verbally." He tsked, turning around, arms hanging uselessly besides him in a show of nonchalance. "Long time no see Detective Decker." He greeted. Many years of experience had taught him something. Light humour can undo tension most of the times.

"Ah, unfortunately, you joined us late to-" Everything disappeared upon looking at her. A year had met her with changes, a change of haircut at most, but at its base, she was still the detective he had spent so much time with. A new outfit, the shadows under her eyes slightly darkened, but how could having a kid not have that effect on the parent?

"Um." He caught himself trailing off too much. "Pudding." He pointed to the cup on the ground, on its side. "A pudding party. One that you missed, unfortunately.”

She stalked forward, arms crossed over her chest. The whiplash of the following seconds were too quick for him to process - even with devil-reflexes- at the absurdity of it all. The slap was an explosion of pain on his cheek, spreading as quick as it happened. As quick as it ended when his head turned back to face her.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I probably deserved that." He craddled his aching cheek.

"Of course you deserved that!" The tension had finally snapped, pure unadulterated disbelief channeling in her quick pacing. "One year, Lucifer. One whole year of hearing nothing about you and you have the audacity of coming back and saying  _You missed the pudding festival, detective."_

 _"_ Now now Detective, I think we should calm down, take a seat and have a pleasant chat about it all."

"No!" She snapped. Lucifer glanced at Ella and Dan, hoping to see some kind of reassurance, alas, the three deep down knew that the situation couldn't be handled by kid gloves. Nothing could help them handle it but confrontation.

"Detective." The increasing panic hid behind his wavering tone, good natured and all losing the battle against her.

"You can't just do that." She pushed him back, and Lucifer let her, the back of his legs thumping against the desk with a hard stab. "You can't just come back and pretend everything is okay because it's not!"

Lucifer's mouth pressed tightly, breathing pushing through heavily.

"You don't get to just slide back into our lives now that we've finally learned how to live without you. You think this is all so simple and colours and candy. You think that the world has to bend at your will so it's easy for you to walk through." He could hear the effort it took for her to say all that without breaking, because Chloe hated breaking when expressing her anger. It made her feel vulnerable.

"It's not like that." He replied defensively.

"I know what it's like. I don't want this. I don't want you to break everything I had to fix when you decided to go." She jabbed a finger on his chest, square center.

"Right. Because that is not what you wanted me to do back then." He grit through his teeth, pushing her hand away, smoothing the crumples on his shirt.

"Well what would anyone react upon seeing the  _Devil_ behind someone who thought was your friend?" She was getting louder every second, and Lucifer could only catch the glimpse of someone approaching.

"I'm still your friend Detective." He whispered, feeling small, despite being taller than her, despite portraying someone that felt taller than the Empire State. Lucifer was not tall, not big or empowering. He was the toy used for everyone to step over.

"Everything okay Chloe?" Lucifer looked up, zoning in on the man standing at the door, moving closer to Chloe and wrapping an arm protectively around her, comforting.

"Yeah- I just-" Chloe parted her gaze from him, wiping at her eyes a few times, placing a soft smile on her face. He knew what type of smile was. He knew so because he once had been the person she gave that reassuring smile to. It was Chloe's attempt at looking strong once again, not worry the other person.

"I understand that I'm not welcome here." He announced, pushing off the desk, giving his two friends a defeated wave and proceding to aim for the door.

The door closed behind him, a little of himself left behind, trying to drag him back in there. To where she was. To where she hurt.

Lucifer rubbed at his chest, still feeling the ghost of her jab on the spot.

It was like she personally sheathed the dagger in.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic based on (Calvin Harris, Sam Smith)-Promises  
> 


End file.
